The Crow and the Unicorn
by LM
Summary: I've been overdosing on Grimm fairy tales and this is the result. More to come, I hope.


_This story is dedicated to Twilight, who told it to me, and Baby Glory, who knows all about stories._

**

_The Crow and the Unicorn_

**

Once upon a time long, long ago, a unicorn longed for a child. There were many fine stallions in her herd, proud-necked unicorns and nimble pegasi, but though she accepted many, no child was born.

One day she left the herd and walked until she saw a hawk with red barring her great wings circling above the plain. The mare called to her:

"Oh mighty hawk with soaring sweep,  
I wish a little one to keep!"

But the hawk cried back, "That's none to me; away with you!" And she rose on the currents until she was no more than a black dot in the sky.

So the mare continued on, walking through the deep woods until she saw a wise-eyed owl watching her from a branch. So she called to her:

"Oh owl wise, whom all extol,  
I wish, I wish a little foal!"

But the owl haughtily turned her head away, replying:

"That's none to me; away with you!"

So the mare kept walking until she saw a crow taking a dust bath, her wings swirling like black fans. The mare watched her for a minute, then sat down a little ways away and sang a little song to herself.

"The hawk who soars and stares the sun  
Would not give me a little one."

The crow paused to tilt her head and preen her plumage, studying the mare as she did so, for hawks are no friends to crows. The pony continued singing, just as if no one else was there.

"The owl, wise beyond all years,  
Would not give me a child to rear."

The crow was gazing on her openly now, black head turned sideways to examine her with one dark, liquid eye.

The unicorn pretended to notice her all of a sudden, singing to the black bird.

"Corby, crow, rook so wild  
All I wish for is a child."

The crow opened her beak and clacked it shut once or twice. Finally, she said, "What price?"

"As much meat as you can carry," the mare promised.

"All my clan."

The unicorn paused only a moment before agreeing. "Enough meat for all your flock."

The crow clacked her beak once or twice in skepticism, for although ponies would defend themselves when attacked, they were certainly not hunters. But she cawed in agreement and arranged to meet the mare at the same spot the next day.

The unicorn walked back along the river, humming to herself. Before long, she came to the owl, who still sat on her branch, half-snoozing.

The mare sang in a murmur that was soft (but not _too_ soft), "Owl, ancient and half-blind, steals scraplets left behind."

The owl's golden eyes opened with a jerk and she hooted angrily. "What did you say?"

"Oh, I'm very sorry," the pony said. "I was just repeating something the hawk said."

"The hawk! What does that fool know about it, never getting a close look at anything but clouds?" the owl said indignantly.

"I apologize, friend owl. But she is such a fine hunter herself, diving for rabbits and even mice at a glance, that I thought she must know what she was talking about."

"She knows nothing," the owl replied, ruffling her feathers. "But she will learn a lesson by the time I am through with her!"

"I saw her upriver, if you want to talk with her," the pony said helpfully, although not quite truthfully. After watching the owl fly away in a silent huff, the pony continued on her way. Soon she came upon the hawk, who was resting on a branch overlooking the river. The pony sat on the bank and sang softly to herself,

"Hawks do scavenge, hawks do thieve if the owl can be believed."

The hawk's head immediately jerked up. "What? What now? _Thieve?_ Aiiii, aiiii, I make my own kills!" And she spread her wide wings and hissed fiercely through her sharply curved beak.

"I'm sorry, hawk, I did not mean to offend," the mare said hastily. "I was just repeating what I heard the owl say!"

_"I_, steal! Unlike that squat mop of a bird, my eyes are sharp enough to pick out my own prey!"

"I apologize," the pony repeated. "But everyone knows how wise the owl is . . . and she's such a fine hunter besides."

"Ha!" the hawk said quite loudly. "A fine idiot is more like it!"

At that moment, the owl arrived. "Who, who, who do you think you are, spreading such lies?"

"I am the hawk, the far-seer, and a mightier hunter than you shall ever be, bone-spitter!" the hawk sneered.

"You're a fool, fool, fool, thinking you know the world because you flutter above it," the owl hooted, "thinking you're a fine hunter because you see the creatures stupid enough to blunder into the open!"

Before they could start striking at each other, the unicorn said, "You hunt differently, it's true, and so it's hard to judge who hunts more skillfully. But perhaps you could have a contest."

"Yes!" the hawk said immediately. "We'll hunt all day and then we'll see who is better . . . when I have a fine pile of mice and rabbits and she has naught!"

"We'll hunt all day AND night," the owl countered, "and you will see that a sharp wit is better than a sharp beak!"

And with this agreed, they both flew off to hunt. The hawk soared high, staring down from her great height and stooping in a rush whenever she saw the twitch of a rabbit or incautious squirrel far below. She did not pause to gorge, but dropped each kill in a pile near the river. The owl, meanwhile, had gotten off to a slow start but once night fell her round eyes caught every grey glimmer of light and she swooped down on mice and rabbits with wide, silent wings.

By morning each bird had a huge and macabre pile of small creatures stacked high, rodents of all kinds and even a turtle that the hawk had caught in its claws and dropped on the rocks to kill.

"I am obviously the greater hunter!" said the hawk, stifling a yawn.

"That is untrue," replied the owl, trying to keep her eyes open. "I have caught more; it's just the fluff around the squirrels' tails that makes your stack seem higher. And, anyway, mine is _wider."_

Exhausted though they were, both of them jerked awake, wide-eyed, as a black storm of crows suddenly descended on the clearing. The cloud of black birds cleaved as half dove for the hawk and half went after the owl, cursing and pecking and driving them away. The hawk soared up, up, up until she was beyond the clouds and the owl fled deep, deep, deep into the forest and only then did the crows fall upon the meat, each bird scooping up a squirrel or a few mice or two or three crows carrying away a rabbit.

Finally only one crow remained, the crow that the unicorn had first spoken to. But the creatures the hawk and owl had so diligently caught were all gone; not a single mouse or shrew remained.

"As much meat as _all_ my clan can carry," was all the crow said.

The unicorn hesitated a moment, then walked over to a walnut tree and kicked it until the nuts rattled down. She rolled a few over to the crow, who watched with a cocked head as the mare crushed the walnuts with her hard hoof.

"Here is your meat, then," the pony said, tapping the nut lying surrounded by crushed bits of shell. "And should you require more than that, I shall get it for you. As much as you can carry."

The crow blinked tilted her head carefully towards the meat of the nuts, then towards the unicorn, and she broke into her loud laugh. "When spring grain springs from the fields, a crow-black colt your womb shall yield!" And the bird scooped up a beakful of walnuts and flew away.

The unicorn returned to her herd and grazed and wandered with them and as summer drew on and chilled into winter she became heavy with foal. Whether a union with one of the herd stallions had at last taken hold or whether it was crow-magic no one knew, but some said the latter, for the child she bore in early spring was like none other in the herd . . . coal black, with neither horn nor wing.

He was named Jackdaw.

* * *

_The significance of this story, in particular the last line, may be hard for anyone not immersed in the culture of Ponyland to comprehend. Jackdaw (sometimes called Jack- or Jackdaw-of-All-Trades) is as famous to the ponies as Red Riding Hood, Sleeping Beauty, or Cinderella would be to European or American children (or children living in any area where Disney shows films.) He is part unlikely hero, like Jack the Giant-Killer, and part trickster, like Coyote or Raven from the tales of various Native American tribes. He makes fools of unicorns and pegasi on a regular basis, steals fire for the herds, outwits the Spider Queen. He is not always honest but always good. He later crosses paths with Silver Spoon, a unicorn who is a famous folkhero in her own right . . . but to say where their adventures lead would be telling! _

This is an odd tale in that it suggests that earth ponies came after_ unicorns and pegasi. (A baby colt will normally be the same breed as his father, thus the significance of Jackdaw being born "with neither horn nor wing" in a herd of unicorns and pegasi.) All the other myths I have come across show earthlings as the original breed, with unicorns and pegasi as offshoots of it. _

I mentioned this to one of the foals, Baby Glory, curious to see how she would deal with the discrepancy. She merely blinked at me and said, "They're stories."

"So they're not true?"

"Oh, don't be silly!"_ she exclaimed. "Stories don't have to have_ happened_ to be true!" _

And she was right.


End file.
